


painted stars at dawn

by darth_fluffy



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Future Fic, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Porn with Implied Plot, Post-Canon, Shower Sex, oh yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 00:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15717885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darth_fluffy/pseuds/darth_fluffy
Summary: Killua and Gon first make love in a tasteful three-star hotel room, the wounds of the past still hanging heavy in the air.





	painted stars at dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glittercracker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittercracker/gifts).



_As the world collapses, Killua runs._

_His lightning crackling around him, he runs—and runs and runs and_ runs _until he_ can’t _anymore; until he’s all out of charge, all out of breath, until his thighs burn and scratches line his legs—_

_He keeps running._

_And breaks into the brand-new clearing to gaze at a man twice his age, a man whose tears stream freely down his face._

_The smell of blood hangs in the air._

_***_

Killua’s eyes snap open.

Gon lies beside him in the hotel bed, his soft snores filling their room. Even through the pillow between them, his warmth seeps through.

_You’re here. You’re still here._

Killua reaches over, puts one hand on Gon’s bicep, feeling the gentle throb of his pulse and wishing with all his heart to melt into that touch. The free Killua—the one in his mind—takes it further, kicking the pillow away and cuddling up to Gon. He would listen, he thinks, to Gon’s soft snoring, feel the gentle beat of his heart as they’d lie snuggled beneath the comforters, watching the sunrise turn the snowbound Yorknew skyline from pink to red to gold.

Gon’s breathing stutters, just a bit, as Killua pulls away his hand.

He sits up, letting the heavy down comforter flop across his knees, and switches on the light.

Helplessly, he turns to glance at Gon, sprawled across the bed beside him. Killua’s eyes trace Gon’s body: the strong planes of his jawline, the fuzzy hunter-green soul patch he’d _somehow_ thought was a good idea. The curve of his collarbone, the broadness of his shoulders, the way his muscular chest rises and falls with every breath; the way the light hits his plum-dark nipples, peaked with cold in the wintry air.

The trail of dark hairs under his navel, growing thicker and coarser as they lead downwards to disappear into his boxer briefs…

Killua isn’t the blushing mess he’d been around Gon at thirteen, he tells himself. He’s seen dicks before. Other people’s dicks, at that. He’s done a lot more than _seen_ them. So it’s really only Gon’s horrible fashion sense that makes him pull his eyes away, that makes his pulse climb—because really, _who_ wore dinosaur-print boxer briefs at nineteen?

And smiley face dinosaurs at that. Killua decides he’s _definitely_ going to get Gon some new underwear sometime soon, and maybe rip the ones he’s wearing up—like maybe right now—

Gon’s skin is a darker tan than it had been when they were boys, he notices; the lamplight turns it to bronze, the constellation of freckles and moles scattered across his skin into a warm, earthy brown. Fresh scars mark his side, ropelike and pink like train tracks carved into his flesh; and the slope of his nose bends sharply downward, broken from a punch that had healed sloppily. He’s put on a bit of weight—not enough to make him unhealthy or even overweight, but enough to blur the edges of his impressive musculature, softening him, causing the shadows the lamplight casts across his sleeping form to be smaller, less defined.

Making him into even more of a creature of light than he had been.

In the years they’ve been apart, Gon has grown into a man.

Again.

Killua shuts off the light.

The blackness is thick, sudden, all-encroaching like the bottom of the sea, and he gropes through the room by the hollow light of the bedside clock that reads 5:45 AM in cold orange letters. He calls his _Nen_ to his palm, lets it shape itself into a tiny ball of lightning, then navigates his way around the minefield of junk they’ve created: Killua’s discarded fashions, the wet patches on the carpet…

The plethora of now-unusable condoms.

_“They think we’re newlyweds,” Gon says with a smile as he opens the minibar and glances at the three 12-packs of condoms: large, extra large, and gigantic. “So they stocked it extra.”_

I’d like to think we’re newlyweds too, _Killua thinks but doesn’t say. “Bullshit,” he says with a snorted laugh. “If we were newlyweds, wouldn’t we have rented the honeymoon suite? Or at least a room with a river view.”_

 _“Maybe we don’t have any money. Maybe we don’t have anything but each other and we saved up our_ entire _life savings to be able to honeymoon in Yorknew because we’re thinking it’s the most romantic city in the world.” Gon bats his eyelashes, his stupidly-endearing grin wide on his face._

_Killua can quite vividly remember being broke in Yorknew, Gon by his side and the world stretching out before them. He’d barely been twelve. “I’m pretty sure Aiai is somehow the most romantic city in the world. Despite it being fake. And built by your dad.” Killua shoots Gon a sidelong glance, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I have an idea, as to what we can do with this plethora of condoms.”_

_Gon’s face doesn’t turn red; Killua doesn’t know whether to be relieved or frustrated. “Plethora. That’s a funny word.” He giggles, just a little under his breath. “A plethora of condoms, a plethora of pizzas, a plethora of platypuses…”_

_Killua rolls his eyes—but every bit of his affection for Gon is in his voice as he says, “A plethora of plethoras.”_

_“Plenty of plethoras… wait no that’s not as good as yours…”_

_“A plethora of pluralities, maybe?”_

_“A plethora of plenty! …wait. Can you even_ have _a plethora of plenty? How would that work...” Gon’s brow scrunches up, the way it always does when he’s thinking hard, and it’s so damn_ cute _that Killua smiles with his whole body, wishing he had the courage to lean over and trace the lines of Gon’s forehead…_

_“Anyway,” Gon says, still lost in thought, “a plethora of penises to go with the plethora of condoms.”_

_Killua deadpans, “I’m pretty sure there’s only two here. Unless—" he raises an eyebrow—“there’s something you’re not telling me…?”_

_Gon beams. “Don’t worry, Killua, if I ever_ did _grow a second penis, you’d be the_ first _person I’d tell!”_

_“I’m honored.”_

_And they double over, laughing until their sides ache, until tears glisten at the corners of their eyes—and Killua pulls Gon close to him, savoring this moment that almost felt like the old days, before the war and the pain and_ since it means nothing to you—

Killua pauses at the bathroom door and turns back to look across the darkened room. Gon and he had shared the bed by the window, leaving the bed by the bathroom door untouched. The light from his aura is too small, too weak to let him see Gon clearly, and from what he can make out of the lumps under the blankets of the far bed, Gon has shifted so that he faces away from Killua.

Faces Killua’s now-empty half of the bed.

The bathroom door shuts behind him with a soft _click_ as Killua steps in, the electricity in his palm dissipating in a shower of blue-white sparks. A moment of absolute darkness before his fumbling fingers find the light; a moment of absolute, blinding brilliance as his eyes adjust.

Harsh and sterile, the white glow of the LED bounces off the white tiles and the white walls and the silver-white faux granite of the counter and shower, creating an overexposed, colorless void. There are no windows, and no sound penetrates through the bathroom walls. If Killua does not open the door, there is nothing to tell him that the rest of the world exists.

He walks in, pulls off his clothes, does an admirable job of pissing with his very hard cock, then steps into the shower, letting the water—cold, then hot, then cold again—run down his back.

Where is Alluka right now, he wonders, his mind flying back to the last time he’d seen her, barefoot on the beach with the flowers of alien worlds in her hair…

_“So you’re really staying.”_

_“Yep!” Alluka says, entirely too brightly. She sits down—awkwardly, slowly—on one of the driftwood logs, and stretches her swollen ankles out into the surf, the water of Lake Mobius lapping at her toes. With a wide smile, she motions for Killua to sit, but he remains standing—the piece of driftwood is dark blue and covered in spines (some of them have already exploded), and seems to be speaking in a voice too deep for him to hear. Killua wouldn’t sit on that for a million chocorobos, and the paleness in his sister’s cheeks tells him_ she _wouldn’t either. If she could stand._

_“Big Brother, you’re starting to worry again,” Alluka teases, singsong._

_“How can I_ not?” _Killua grumbles. “My only sister is–”_

 _“I_ know _you’re worried—trust me, I’m a little worried too.” She giggles sheepishly, as if admitting to a prank. “But... it’s gonna be_ okay.” _She rises unsteadily, and shuffles down the beach to take Killua’s hands in her own. “Nanika’s never gonna let anything happen to me—and anyway, I can take care of myself. The worst thing that’ll happen to me is just a_ metric fuckton _of responsibility.”_

 _Killua chuffs dryly. “Since when did_ you _learn to curse?”_

 _“Well,” Alluka says, an impish grin blossoming on her face, “ever since a certain big brother rescued me, he’s been_ sort _of a bad influence…”_

_“Point conceded.” Killua grins, before the ever-present lump in his throat threatens to choke him once more. “And I think ‘a fuckton of responsibility’ may be underestimating it.”_

_“True. But this is my_ path.” _Her eyes brim, sparkling in the firelight as she looks up at her brother, a silent plea of understanding written across her face. “Nanika chose me for a_ reason, _and I didn’t know what that was until now. But nowhere… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve finally found my home?” She glances wryly at the motley crew gathered around the beach: the bedraggled humans; the Chimera Ants, some humanoid in Kakin clothing, the others taking the shapes of monstrous, unknown beasts. The Guides._

_And Nanika, laughing with her tribe of Ai._

_“And… I need to do this.” She looks down at her stomach, then up, fear and determination and_ purpose _all mixing on her face. “The Lost Creek nest needs a human. Someone to teach them how to live, the_ Guides _need a human, the_ Ai _need a human they can talk to.”_

Killua doesn’t leave the shower once he’s done. Instead, he sits on the little shelflike bench in the corner, knocking over the complimentary shampoo and conditioner bottles with his butt.

Two years.

Two years since the remnants of the Dark Continent expedition had limped back to the known world.

Two years since he’d left Alluka behind to die.

And three months since Gon had found him, bleeding and broken in the snow. Three months of putting their friendship back together, of unsaid words and lingering touches and moments of fierce, pure joy...

They’d had an epic water condom fight the night before.

He blinks. Even after all this time in the shower, the light still seems harsh.

_“Killua!”_

_Great. Fuck._

The sound of running feet,and a stocky, man-shaped blur from behind the frosted glass—and then Gon is _beside_ him, pulling Killua into an awkward hug that almost smashes his skull into the shower wall. Killua pushes his longtime friend into a reasonable breathing distance, places both hands on his shoulder, and looks into amber eyes sparking with worry. “Okay. Gon. What the _hell.”_

“I just couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye!”

“You thought I was _leaving?”_

“–because I _know_ you’re really busy with Blacklist Hunter stuff and Mizaistom wanted you to track down the Golden Jaws and all and I heard they were almost just as dangerous as the Phantom Troupe and there’s still still so much I wanted to _tell_ you— _”_ Gon sniffles, and Killua can see his friend’s eyes welling up with tears. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again, I don’t know if I’ll _ever_ see you again and—” His voice wavers as he leans forward to press his tear-stained cheek into Killua’s own. Killua shivers at the touch, his hands unconsciously reaching around Gon’s back, drawing him closer until their bodies meet, skin against skin and scar against scar. He can feel Gon’s pulse, the goosebumps on his skin, setting Killua aflame even as he sobs against Killua’s shoulder. He holds Gon, drawing soothing circles on his back in this little too-white slice of reality, hoping against hope that this one touch would speak all the words he can’t.

And then he remembers what day it is.

“Gon… I’m supposed to leave to hunt the Golden Jaws on Tuesday.”

_“So?”_

“Today is Sunday.”

“Oh.” He hears Gon giggle sheepishly. “Sorry for barging in like that just now, I woke up and I heard the water and thought you were about ready to leave…”

“It’s okay,” Killua says, even though it really isn’t. It’s not that he _minds_ being close to an almost-naked Gon, it’s not that he particularly minds Gon seeing him either. It’s just that Gon has full view of his embarrassingly-vivacious morning wood. And Gon is hard _too;_ the bulge in his underwear pulls what _had_ been an innocent grin on the brontosaurus’ face into a mischievous smirk, and Killua has no words to even begin to describe this situation other than _your brontosaurus is winking at me._

Gon’s eyes trace Killua from head to toe as he plops down beside him on their tiny shower-corner bench, his thigh pressing against Killua’s, and Killua is starting to wonder if this is reality, or if he just hasn’t woken up and is in the midst of an elaborate, self-flagellatory wet dream. “Even though you’re not leaving today…” Gon slips his hand into Killua’s, touching their fingertips together with a feathery softness. “Can I still tell you? All the things I wanted to say to you when I thought you’d leave.”

Killua clears his throat, looks down at the imitation granite and watches the water trickle, drop by drop, towards the drain. “I mean, sure, go ahead.”

Silence.

Water drips from the shower head, the bathroom fan roars. The heater clicks on, and an emergency siren echoes outside before falling away.

“First of all, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“I know.” Gon pauses, and Killua hears him swallow. “But I want to say it again.”

“Why? You don’t need to.”

“Because,” Gon says helplessly, “it never really felt like enough?”

_You’re right. It wasn’t._

“Okay. Shoot.”

Gon squeezes Killua’s hand as if he’s drowning and Killua is his lifeline. “I’m sorry, I’m so, _so_ , sorry! For everything that happened—I’m sorry for running off to go fight Pitou, I’m sorry for trying to kill myself…” His voice wavers, and Killua can feel him start to tremble. “For saying that Kite’s…  saying all those horrible things to you.”

 _The lives of your targets must not mean anything to you, Kil,_ Illumi says in his memories. _You are passionless. A puppet. Nothing more._

 _Of course_ you’d _be perfectly calm…_

“You don’t know.” Killua’s voice is flat. “You don’t know what it was like to hear those words coming from _you._ ”

“I kn—“

Killua says, very quietly, _“_ That was the sort of shit my family said, you know that?”

He feels Gon flinch, hears his horrified gasp. “Killua… I… oh _gods…”_

“That I couldn’t feel. That I couldn’t know love or compassion. That others people’s lives shouldn’t— _didn’t_ —matter to me.” His words are hollow, distant, like he’s listening to someone else speak with his voice. “And I believed that. I fucking believed them. Until _you.”_

Gon’s face _crumples,_ tears streaming down his cheeks—and Killua feels himself pulled into a fierce, desperate hug, Gon’s hands tracing soothing patterns on Killua’s back as he murmurs, “Killua, Killua, I’m so _sorry…”_

“I know,” Killua says, his voice choked as he leans into Gon’s warm arms, his heart beating like a baby bird’s. There’s nothing between them now, he realizes; just the thin fabric of Gon’s boxers. “It’s okay. I know.”

He can feel _everything:_ the firm planes of Gon’s chest, rising with each breath;  the jagged scars lacing his collarbone, his shoulder, his chest and stomach; the hot swell of his erection against Killua’s own.

_Shit. This is really not a good time to be hugging._

He pulls away.

“You’re trembling,” Gon says.

“I’m fine.”

Gon traces the bones of Killua’s wrist. Water drips.

“I loved you, you know?”

Killua’s voice is so soft it almost seems that he hasn’t spoken at all.

“You… loved me?”

“Or… whatever passes for love when you’re thirteen and hormonal, at least.” Killua drops his gaze, then steels himself, forcing himself to meet Gon’s eyes. “You were my light. I’d lived a horrible life. An absolutely shitty one. And then I met _you._ And it was like… okay, this is gonna sound really fucking cheesy but…”

Gon smiles angelically through his tears.

“Don’t _look_ at me like that,” Killua says, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Gon’s smile grows broader, finally reaching his eyes. “How _should_ I look at you?”

 _Is he flirting with me? I think he’s flirting with me._ Killua’s stomach does a funny little jump at the thought, and he quite fervently hopes he’s not blushing. _“Gon._ We are having a _serious conversation_ here.”

“Serious conversation _yourself.”_

And Killua breaks into laughter, slowly at first then all at once, his body shaking as he tries to suppress his joy. “Okay. Thanks,” he says when he can breathe again. “I needed that. But…“ His voice trails off. Eyes downcast, he leans away from Gon and tightens his fingers on the lip of the shower bench, feeling the water droplets on the smooth, cold material.

It’s linoleum, he decides.

“What were you going to say?”

“That you were light.”

Gon blushes, the pain in his eyes melting away as he gazes at Killua, his features soft with wonder. Killua feels his pulse climb, hears his brother in his mind telling him to run.

Gon reaches for Killua’s hand. Killua moves away.

“When I met you… it was like I’d been trapped in the dark my whole life, and then suddenly, I was seeing the sun.” He shudders, forcing down his sob. “You taught me _everything,_  Gon. You taught me how to smile, how to feel. How to just… be a normal kid again, instead of the _thing_ my parents wanted me to be. Gon, if I hadn’t found you…” He shivers. “I don’t think I’d still be alive.”

“And then I… _I…”_

The cold sound of tears on tile.

Killua longs, with all his heart, to reach out and put his arm across Gon’s shoulders, to pull him close and hold him and try to take the pain away.

His hands stay on his knees. “Yeah. You did.”

When Gon speaks again, his voice is soft. Muted. “Can you… can you ever forgive me, Killua?”

“I already have.”

“But-“

A hard lump forms in Killua’s throat, threatening to choke his words. “But. The thing about forgiveness is, you don’t have to let the person you’re forgiving back into your life. It simply means you’re not angry at them anymore. You’re not holding a grudge.” He shrugs as his heart cracks. “For me—well, I realized fairly quickly that you didn’t mean what you’d said.”

“Killua, Killua, _believe_ me, I…”

“You were hurt and scared. Shit, I was too. And you were lashing out at anyone you could. Or maybe you wanted to push me away so you could self destruct without leaving me heartbroken.” From the way Gon flinches, he knows he’s hit at least part of the truth. “That worked, by the way. For about five minutes. And then I saw you… with Pitou…”

Even now, the memories still twist his stomach.

“I almost lost you,” he hears his voice saying, the words heavy with tears. “I watched you fucking _die_ because _you_ couldn’t handle your grief, _you_ let your emotions run out of control and just about damn _killed_ yourself for revenge and _I_ was left standing there picking up the pieces like some kind of _idiot—_ ” He swallows down the gravelly lump in his throat. “I can’t lose you. Not _again_.”

Somehow, he’s holding Gon again, his friend’s face pressed against his collarbone, his fingers caressing the nape of Gon’s neck. Killua jerks away as if he’s touched a flame.

“I’m s—”

“You already fucking said that.”

Silence.

Gon is shaking, Killua notices; his fingers leave bruises on his knee. “Thank you, Killua,” he says and the defeat in his voice—like he’s been awake for days—sends Killua’s heart to pieces. “For hearing me out. I…” Killua can’t see his face, but from the choked tones in his voice, he guesses Gon is biting his lip. “Um. There’s one last thing I’d like to say… if you’ll let me…”

“Sure.”

“I’m glad. That you said you loved me, I mean.” Gon swallows, looks up to the ceiling, then back down. “Because I love you too.”

Adrenaline shoots through Killua’s veins—and suddenly he’s _floating,_ lifted up beyond the clouds by the sheer _lightness_ filling his heart—

“You– you loved me?”

“Of _course_ I do!”

“You loved me,” Killua whispers to himself, as if doubting the words are real. He closes his eyes, hears the flutter of his pulse in his ears. “You _loved_ me.”

A warm hand on his chin, tilting his face up to meet Gon’s eyes. “Why are you talking past tense? I love you _now.”_

“Because… shit, Gon, I didn’t _think_.” He shakes his head, pulls free of Gon’s warm hand. “We’ve been separated for _years._ And we’ve only known each other again for three _months._ That’s-“

Gon’s eyes flash. “Are you forgetting everything that happened before?”

 _“No,_ of _course_ not _,_ but—we were just _kids—“_

 _“Killua,”_ Gon says, his voice low but with no hint of anger, “stop. Please.”

Killua opens his mouth to speak. No sound comes.

“You don’t smell angry.” Gon’s eyes find Killua’s, intensity clouding his gaze.

“Oh? What _do_ I smell like, Mr. Freak Nose?”

“Like you’re afraid.”

Killua freezes.

Voices from the past find his mind, cluttering their too-white slice of reality with their noise: his father saying _you must never betray your friends_ and Bisky saying _you’ll leave him to die_ and Illumi’s voice saying _run—_

He thinks back to a warm tropical afternoon, his body aching from Rammot’s blows, hot tears dripping down his cheeks as he’d cried out _Gon is my friend—_

_I’ve always been afraid. I just need to learn to face it._

“...How long?”

Gon looks at the shower floor. “I don’t… really know _exactly._ It wasn’t when we were kids, were traveling together—it was more like after. Back on Whale Island, there wasn’t really much anything to do—I’d forgotten how _boring_ it was, and… I kept missing you.”

Without thinking, Killua reaches out and rests his hand atop Gon’s, feeling his chapped, callused knuckles. “I… I missed you, too,” he says, his voice hoarse. The words are pathetically small to contain his feelings for Gon, but they’re all he has.

“And then…” Gon swallows hard, a note of fear entering his tone as he says, “um. Killua. I never told you… how I got my Nen back, did I?”

Killua shakes his head, a cold worm of dread curling within his heart. “No. Not really.”

“It was during the fight with Gyro… you remember what Wing told us about Nen baptisms, right?”

Killua’s eyes take in Gon’s scars, thick and livid even after years, the broken slope of his nose, the way his cheekbones are slightly uneven—as if he’s been smashed apart and then put back together, the jagged edges never quite fitting again—

 _No. No gods_ please _no—_

 _“_ How bad?”

“Mm?”

 _“_ Don’t play dumb with me,” Killua snaps. “How _badly_ did he _beat_ you.”

“It wasn’t like that, Killua,” Gon hedges, one hand unconsciously going to the back of his head. “It’s just… I did lose the fight…”

“How bad,” Killua says, his voice hoarse. _“Tell_ me _._ _I need to know.”_

Gon bites his lip, tears springing to the corners of his eyes. “It… it wasn’t as bad as what I did to Pitou. But…”

_But it was close._

The sudden flood of tears chokes Killua, make Gon blur in his eyes—and without thinking, he opens his arms and pulls Gon into a tight, warm hug. Gon slumps into his arms, relaxing against his chest, and Killua’s heart stutters at the intimacy of their embrace.

Gon is shaking, he notices, his body trembling like a baby bird’s.

They stay like that for a long moment, Killua cradling Gon close, the only sound their breaths.

Gon is warm, so, _so_ warm in his arms, and Killua wants to drown himself in that warmth, to hold this wonderful man tight or as long as he can, as long as the world lets him—

“And that was when I knew,” Gon whispers.

_“Hah?”_

“When he was beating me…” Gon’s voice wavers as he pulls away from Killua, his golden eyes sparking with longing—“I thought about _you,_ Killua. Your kindness and sarcasm and the way you’d poke me in the forehead and call me an idiot, how your eyes would light up whenever you eat chocolate and how you’d be _super_ embarrassed if your breath smelled after—“ Gon pauses for air— “Your fashion sense—I never really understood clothes but you always seemed to look really good? And the way you’d always watch over me when I slept—I’d wake to find you there, pretending you weren’t looking at me—“ Killua hides his gaze. “And…” Gon’s amber eyes soften, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he says, “The way you’d devote yourself _so completely_ to the people you care about, first me then Alluka—I can see it in your eyes, you know? How much you care about her—and way you always saw clearly, not with your heart—I was always so _selfish—“_ Gon hides his gaze, the tips of his ears turning pink. “And, um, your body… I thought of that too…”

Killua feels his heart leap, feels adrenaline shoot through his veins. The air between them crackles, almost, as if Killua’s activates his _Whirlwind._

_He wants me._

_He_ wants _me._

“And…” The roselike blush on Gon’s ears reaches his cheeks, darkens. “I think I survived because of _you_ , Killua. Because I thought of you, and then I didn’t want to die.“

_“Gon.”_

“Huh?”

“Don’t _say_ stuff like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

Killua freezes, six, seven years’ worth of unsaid words heavy on his lips— _no,_ I’m _the one who should be thankful to meet_ you— _you’re my best friend—you are light—this time I’ll_ make _you apologize—_

_I love you._

_I always have._

Distantly, he hears Gon continue, “So, um, yeah, Killua, thanks for- for hearing me out.”

He can hear Alluka’s final promise echoing through his mind.

She’d told him, _Live for yourself._

 _When you were a kid you were an assassin. And then you took care of Gon, and_ then _you took care of me._

_So get back to the rest of the world, and take care of Killua for a bit, okay?_

The endless nights spent asking himself _what do_ I _want—_

The answer had always come back the same. _Gon._

_I want my friend back._

_I want my love._

“And—“ Gon finishes— “I’m really sorry for barging into your show—“

 _Killua Zoldyck,_ a voice chides, not his or Alluka’s but seemingly a mix of the two, _when are you going to stop running away?_

And Killua crushes their lips together.

This is not their first kiss—they aren’t the inexperienced boys they were, fumbling around in the woods as they waited for midnight and Morel’s signal, Gon’s lips tight and unresponsive against his own. Nor is it their second, the gentle brush of lips that Killua, still groggy from anesthesia, had pulled Gon into. This time it’s different—Gon’s lips are warm and soft against Killua’s; and the two men move together, pulling each other so close it’s almost _painful_ , their tongues brushing as Killua’s hand slips in Gon’s hair, the other going to the small of his back to pull him closer—

 _“Killua,”_ Gon gasps as they part, a string of saliva glistening between their mouths. “ _Thank_ you.”

“You’ve got it backwards, dumbass,” Killua says, smiling, his eyes bright with joyful tears. _“I’m_ the one who should be thanking—“

And Gon kisses him, even harder this time, and Killua feels throbbing heat pooling below his gut. He _wants_ this man, he _needs_ him—and all he can do is keep kissing Gon, kiss Gon until both their lips are sore—

“I- I really want you, Killua,” Gon mumbles against his lips, and those words have a _remarkable_ talent for sending Killua’s blood straight to his dick.

“I gathered,” Killua breathes—and then Gon’s fingers trail across his collarbone, tracing the curve of his neck, the hollow of his throat, the outlines of long-ago scars...

It’s _astonishing,_ how much his world can turn with just one touch.

 _“Gods,”_ Gon murmurs, his eyes and hands studying Killua in a way that would have made Killua shrivel up from embarrassment had it been _anyone_ else— “you’re so _beautiful,_ Killua… so _good…”_

They part, for just a second, and Killua takes in his Gon—the curve of Gon’s throat, his thick arms, the taut muscles of his chest—

The bulge of his erection and the little tufts of dark curls poking out of his _stupid_ dinosaur boxers.

Killua’s cock throbs. _Gods, Gon, I want you so_ much—

“How far do you want us to go?”

“As far as you’re willing to take me,” Gon answers, and the look of absolute _trust_ shining in Gon’s eyes shakes Killua to the core. “I’ve always been yours…”

_My Gon._

Killua looks at this beautiful man beside him, and feels a shiver run down his spine. “Well, I belong to you, too,” he says, fighting to keep his voice light even as he draws himself closer to Gon with desperate, fumbling movements, reaching for Gon’s hand to remind himself that this moment is _real._ “So we’re even.”

He moves to kiss Gon again—then slides off the bench, turns, and pulls himself into Gon’s lap, straddling his hips. “You’re going to be doing a lot more than _thinking_ of my body in a minute.”

Gon’s eyes widen, his lips blossom into a smile—and Killua feels warm hands on the small of his back, pulling him closer— _oh_ —Gon’s cock, hard against his own. Killua grinds his hips down, savoring Gon’s gasp of delight. He can feel _everything—_ the warmth of Gon’s erection through his boxers, his breath on Killua’s neck, the press of Gon’s nipples against Killua’s chest. “Tell me if I’m doing this right,” Gon murmurs in his ear. “Or if you want me to stop…”

And Gon runs his tongue over the shell of Killua’s ear. Killua gasps, his breath hitching in his throat as Gon kisses and sucks and nips at his jaw, his throat and collarbone, leaving tiny purple bruises in his wake…

 _“Gods,_ Gon,” he mutters, the words becoming a gasp as Gon grinds their hips together— _“how_ are you so good at this?”

“I, um…” Gon pulls away, a sheepish smile on his face. “Looked some stuff up, you know, when we were apart. I wanted to give y- to give someone a good time—“

“Wait.” Killua freezes, heat spreading across his cheeks. “You… _thought_ about me? Like that when we were apart, I mean.”

Gon blushes visibly, his tanned cheeks turning a dusky pink. “Um… yeah. A little bit…”

 _I’ve always been yours._ “And…” He feels like summer: hot and sticky and awkward and _alive._ “Shit, Gon. You’re a virgin…”

“Mm… hm?”

 _“Don’t_ say you waited for me all these years.”

“Why not? You’re my best friend.”

“Because… _shit_. There are other people out there, not just—“

Gon kisses him and bites at his lip—and murmurs, once he can speak again, “I know. But everything that we did together when we were kids—“ another breathless kiss, and Gon’s warm hand caressing Killua’s stomach, fingers splayed between navel and pubis. “All the places we went and the times we shared—everything was _so_ much better because of _you_.”

Killua stiffens, mouth agape. Gon continues on, heedless, his grin wide and boyish, “You made _everything_ bright, Killua. Everything more…” He trails off, bringing his hand from the small of Killua’s back to scratch the back of his neck, his brow scrunching up. “Fun, I guess? Except that never really felt like a strong enough word…”

Killua closes his mouth, swallows. “You _idiot,”_ he almost sobs, pressing his cheek against Gon’s to let his words rest against Gon’s ear, digging his fingers into Gon’s back as if he might slip away. “You total _idiot. Why_ didn’t you tell me _sooner?”_

Gon smiles impishly. “Well, I still got you naked in my arms, so it worked out.”

Killua snorts, shaking with laughter in Gon’s embrace, and then pulls back to look him in the eye. “Just for that,” he says as he pokes Gon lightly on the collarbone, “I’m gonna ruin your underwear.”

Gon grins back, brilliantly, _stupidly_ eager, and it must be contagious because Killua’s almost instantly grinning like an idiot too. “Do your worst, Killu– wait… how are you—“

“You’ll see.” Killua smirks, kisses Gon lightly on the lips—then reaches over to grab a packaged loofah and shower cap. Sharpening his nails, he rips open both packages, then rolls the cap up, ties it to the loofah’s string—and pins Gon’s wrists to the wall above his head and slides his makeshift cuff around them both. It’s a pathetically flimsy restraint, but it’s all he has.

“You know I could break out of this in literally a second.”

“Shut up.” Killua taps him on the nose. “It’s part of the fun.”

And he stretches up to kiss Gon’s bound wrists, his lips following the faint, dark veins downward. Gon shivers beneath him, his fluttering breath becoming a gasp as Killua teases the sensitive underside of his arms. “Tell me if this is okay,” Killua says, his voice husky, “or if you want me to stop.”

He feels Gon nod.

Killua kisses his way down the lines of muscle on his forearm, lightly biting the corded tendons. He runs one still-sharpened finger over Gon’s collarbone, his chest, his stiffened nipples—

Gon’s breathy gasp becomes a moan as Killua nips at his collarbone, sucking bruises down the hairline scratch his fingernails have left, then down the line of his pecs. He licks Gon’s pebbled nipple and hears him keen, low in his throat, his hips rutting against Killua’s chest. “Oh—Killua… don’t stop…”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Killua slides off the shower seat, crouches between Gon’s legs, then runs his tongue over Gon’s navel, nips a line of bruises just above the waistband of his boxers. Above him, he hears Gon’s breathing stutter, ragged with anticipation—but Killua draws back, doing nothing more than lightly exhale on the bulge in his underwear. Gon whimpers low in his throat, straining his hips towards Killua as Killua kisses the inside of his thighs. “You know,” Killua says, looking up at Gon with a predatory smirk, “has anyone ever told you…”

He brings one sharpened fingernail to Gon’s groin, right where his thigh meets his body, and hears Gon’s sharp inhale.

A _rrrip_ of cloth.

Killua pulls what’s left of his boxers free and watches Gon’s eyes go _impossibly_ wide. “That you have _really_ bad taste in clothes?”

“I don’t know...” Gon manages to say, his stupid, endearing, _wonderful_ grin back, “but I think you _really_ like what I’m wearing right now…”

Killua gives him a wry grin. “Well, you’re not wrong. Hey…” he says, trying to lean forward—and to not wince as the tip of his erection bumps against the cold tile of the bench. “Do you mind… moving forward a bit?”

Gon complies almost too eagerly, scooting forward and opening his legs even more. His cock is shorter and thicker than Killua’s own, sticking up arrow-straight above his balls and the thatch of thick dark curls at its base. The slit, glossy red and half-hidden beneath his foreskin, already glistens with precum.

Even here, Gon is beautiful. Insanely, insistently, _stupidly_ beautiful, beautiful for exactly zero reason. Killua looks up at his first friend, his best friend, and sees no hint of fear in Gon’s eyes.

Only pure, raw trust.

_What did I do to deserve you?_

“This okay?” Killua mutters, hiding his gaze as he puts his lips close to the head of Gon’s cock. Gon nods wordlessly, muscles tensing at his hips.

_I’m here. With you._

_I’m not dreaming._

_This is real._

Killua swallows hard, breathes deeply—and then, as if he might shatter this moment like glass, leans in and presses a kiss to the tip. Gon gasps, his hips twitching as he fights to keep himself from thrusting into Killua’s mouth. Killua slides him in, pulling the foreskin back with his tongue—Gon’s voice, above him, broken—“Ki- _Killua—yes—“_

A hand in his hair.

A gentle kiss on his forehead, right on the scar where he’d pulled out Illumi’s needle, so long ago. And Gon is beside him on the shower floor, and they’re not touching, and Gon is biting his lip, his expression taut, strained—

“Gon… wha?”

Gon settles back on his heels, reaches a warm hand out to stroke Killua’s cheek. Their eyes meet, blue against gold, _breathtaking_ in that one moment—

“I don’t… want to be selfish again,” Gon rasps, his hand still caressing Killua’s cheek. With his other hand, he reaches out and holds Killua’s wrist. “I don’t want this to be something _you_ do for _me._ I-“

“You could just blow me after I’m done, you know.”

Gon gives a tiny shake of his head. “No, that’s no good either. I want us to be _together.”_

“Oh.” Killua presses himself up against Gon, and their cocks brush, and Killua feels hot, fizzy delight racing through his veins. “Like this?” he whispers in Gon’s ear.

Gon pulls away, just a little, a sheepish grin on his face. “I was thinking more like…”

Killua smiles, bright and full. “Okay. You want my ass. Got it.”

“Y-Yeah.” Gon blushes, eagerness burning in his amber eyes. _“Can_ we do the butt stuff? I mean, only if you want to of course, you don’t have to just to please me—“

Killua’s breath catches, his heart fluttering at the thought of _Gon inside me,_ their bodies entwined as close as they could get...

“Yes.” He lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding—and pulls Gon’s face close to his own, their foreheads touching, their breath caressing each other’s lips. “Because it’s you.”

“Okay! Yay!”

Killua laughs dryly, one hand going to the nape of Gon’s neck, delicately tracing the little wisps of hair there. “Of course _you_ of all people would react like that.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Gon unravels his legs, spreads them, then quickly realizes his ass is _still_ pressed against the shower floor. His face crumbles a bit, and he looks at his feet as if he’s not quite sure how they got there.

“Um.” Killua clears his throat. “Gon. I’d actually rather you be on top—I’ve done this before—“

“No, really, Killua, I can take you. Trust me.”

Killua swallows. “You say that, but this is your first time. And it can hurt, even if you’re stretched. Just… let me do this for you, okay?”

“I meant it, you know?” Gon says softly. “I don’t want to be selfish again. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Killua’s pulse pounds in his ears. _You care so_ much— _why the_ hell— “And I don’t want to hurt _you.”_ The words are small, weak, even to his own ears. “I spent _years_ watching you break yourself apart—for thrills or strength or, I don’t know what. And I don’t want sex to be like that for you.”

“You don’t have to please me.”

“I know. But I _want_ to.”

“But it’ll-“

“It doesn’t always hurt. Not if you prep—“

“Oh, so it hurts when _I_ do it but not _you?”_

 _“Gon,”_ Killua mutters. “I’ve _done this before. I_ know what I’m getting into, and besides, my asshole is going to be a lot easier to—“

“Rock paper scissors?” Gon says, a twinkle in his eye.

Killua rolls his eyes, a smile spreading on his face. “Sure—but just so you know, I think we’re the _only_ couple in the world that decides this by rock-paper-scissors.”

“We’re special.”

“Our _one_ claim to fame. Never mind beating Heaven’s Arena and Greed Island. Okay, on three—“

“Rock…”

“Paper…”

“Scissors…”

_“Shoot!”_

Gon picks scissors. Killua picks rock.

Killua smirks. “Looks like those scissors are going up my ass.”

Gon turns beet red.

Killua still hasn’t unclenched his fist. “Just be glad you didn’t pick paper.”

And Gon’s lips are on his, pressing with bruising force, his tongue hot and wet against Killua’s. “I think…” he says when they part, his breathing labored, “we spent too much time talking…”

“Mmm,” Killua agrees, leaning forward to kiss Gon again, “you can scream my name anytime you want though…”

Gon’s hands trail down his stomach brushing the line where his hips meet his pelvis, softly caressing his balls, the folds of his scrotum, the base of his shaft. Killua sucks in a breath, adrenaline jumping through his veins. _“Gon,”_ Killua murmurs into his ear, tilting his hips into the touch, the bright spots of pleasure Gon’s hand leaves never enough. “You’re really good… at making me want you…”

“Like this?” Gon runs his thumb over the head of Killua’s cock. Killua gasps, his eyes going wide, his hand flying to his mouth to muffle his groan. “Oh, _Gon…”_

“Keep it up,” Killua warns, when he can breathe again, “and I’m gonna come all over the shower floor.”

Gon’s face tells Killua that he wouldn’t quite mind that outcome, but he pulls away, leaving Killua breathless, nearly biting his tongue at the sheer _unfairness_ of it all. He blinks, and Gon has risen onto his knees, his fingertips lightly trailing down Killua’s thigh. “Um, so, how are we going to do this…”

_I’m here._

_I’m having sex with Gon._

A shiver runs down his spine at the thought. Without thinking, he pulls Gon close, his hands clasped at Gon’s back. There are a thousand words he want to say— _thank you, I’m so glad I have you back, you’re my light, you know?—_ but none of them seem big enough, somehow.

What he says is, “Number one, we need lube. Number two, I’m not getting fucked in the shower. We do it on the _bed_ like _classy_ people.”

“Mmm,” Gon sighs against his neck, tracing invisible patterns on his thighs, “my classy Killua, would you stand up a little…”

_My Killua._

_I’m his._

_I’m finally his._

Killua rises, pulls Gon into a desperate kiss—and then Gon sweeps him into his arms, cradling him against his chest. Killua leans into Gon, reveling in the sensation of his friend’s—his _lover’s—_ warm arms, his chest, the steady beat of his pulse.

Gon looks down at him, his eyes soft, and strokes his hair with one hand. Killua smiles, nuzzling up against Gon’s chest. “Ready?” Gon says with sparkling eyes, and Killua feels his heart jump, just a little but it’s enough.

Tightening his grip on Killua, Gon maneuvers them out of the bathroom and into their darkened hotel room, doing a _remarkable_ job of not tripping on Killua’s clothes or the condoms— _shit. We already used all the condoms._

_And it wasn’t even sex._

They reach the bed, and Gon and Killua sprawl out side-by-side in the dark, their fingers entwined, Killua caressing Gon’s cheek. “Killua, you were laughing a little.”

“Because I realized we already used all our condoms.”

Gon chuckles softly, and reaches out to run his finger over Killua’s lips. “We don’t need them.”

“But—“

“We’re healthy,” Gon says simply. “And we love each other. Why not?”

“Because…” Killua stammers, and feels his words fail him. _You trust so much_.

Gon’s light is back, he realizes. It’s tempered now, warming rather than blinding, but it’s back.

Killua pushes himself off the bed.

His body and soul both protest, telling him to go back, to be with the man he loves.

“What if you had sex with someone else?”

“Why would I?”

“...Damn it, Gon, if that’s the case, why don’t you just go ahead and marry me,” Killua mutters as he walks over to the minibar, letting the white sparks of his _hatsu_ be his guide.

“Okay! When do we tell Aunt Mito?”

“I _wasn’t serious—_ okay, just for that, I’m gonna kiss you silly.” Killua bends down, opens the little glass minibar door, then retrieves a small bottle of lube.

He straightens—then turn to look at Gon, sprawled out on the bed. Gon’s aura, soft and warm; the lines of his chest, barely visible in the pale predawn light; the way his eyes sparkle, gold against silver, as they follow Killua.

Killua feels Gon’s eyes tracing him as he stands, wreathed in lightning in their darkened hotel room. Tracing every bit of him: the planes of his chest, the swell of his cock. The burns where he’d been whipped, electrocuted, the neat knot of scar tissue near his navel where the ant’s dart had pierced him.

It feels like a lifetime ago.

Gon sees him, Killua realizes—sees him and _wants_ him; wants this body of his, this weapon that he’s fought so hard to reclaim.

_You think I’m beautiful._

A shiver races across his skin, and he’s suddenly acutely aware of his own nakedness—but Gon’s eyes are soft, enraptured as he gazes at Killua.

Killua walks to the bed.

He steps slowly, quietly, half afraid this moment will disappear.

There is no sound—the world outside their hotel room might as well not exist. Leaving only Killua, and Gon, and the beautiful moments they create when they touch.

He climbs onto the bed, then crawls up on his knees to straddle Gon’s hips, letting his eyes sweep over the man he loves. He’s marked Gon, he notices—there’s scratches and bruises on his chest and stomach and arms, tracing the brutal, jagged scars from his fight with Gyro. Killua feels the fresh bite marks on his collarbone, following the scars where Milluki had snuffed his cigarette, and he wonders for a moment if they’re rewriting each other, transforming wounds of fear and pain into ones of love.

“Do you want me to turn on the light?”

“No.” He sees Gon swallow. “I think your Nen is enough.”

Killua settles down, just a little bit, and feels the tip of Gon’s cock brush against his perineum. His pulse climbs, Gon’s body taut beneath him as he reaches out to stroke Killua’s erection.

It’s a light touch, more of a tease than anything else, but Killua moans a little, fizzy heat building below his gut as his cock leaks precum. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” Gon’s voice is quiet, breathy in their shadowed room. Killua hands him the lube, and Gon uncaps it and squeezes some into the palm of his hand. Killua leans forward, spreading his legs further as Gon brings his hand up to stroke Killua’s inner thigh.

And stops.

“Gon…?”

“I’m a little…” Beneath him, he can see Gon’s golden eyes downcast. “Scared. I guess.”

“It’s okay if you’re scared. We don’t have to do this.”

Gon shakes his head. “It’s not that! I really, _really_ want you, Killua, more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before—it’s just…” He exhales, long and thin. “What if—what if I hurt you?”

He does not say _again,_ but Killua still understands.

“...Then I’ll tell you,” Killua promises, squeezing Gon’s free hand in the darkness. “If something hurts, or doesn’t feel good, I’ll tell you. So—“ he puts one hand on Gon’s forehead, fingers lightly combing his hair, “all you have to do to avoid hurting me is to listen.”

“But what if I _don’t?_ What if you feel so good I forget about _you_?”

Three words. A simple answer.

“I trust you.”

Gon’s fingers still don’t move.

“ _Gon,”_ Killua says, his voice hoarse, “I want you. _All_ of you. Open me up. Fill me, I’m yours. Fuck me, make love to me, I don’t care—I just want to feel your cock…”

Gon’s breath hitches, his eyes going wide. He reaches out, fingers dancing down the line where Killua’s thigh meets his body, the fold of his ass, finally pressing against his entrance. Killua flinches, breath coming out a gasp as Gon slides one lubed finger inside him, then another.

“Did I hurt you?”

“A little.”

“I’m so—“

“I’m fine.” Killua smiles, a warm rush of love filling his heart. “I’m not as fragile as you think.”

“Oh. Sorry, Killua,” he hears Gon say, a little sheepishly. Gon relaxes, his breathing deepening slightly—and Killua feels the pressure inside his ass growing stronger as Gon pulls his fingers apart, stretching him open, working them deeper inside.

“It’s a little weird touching you here,” Gon comments. “I keep thinking you’re gonna poop on me…”

“Oho _ho,”_ Killua teases, the words breathy in the quiet darkness. “What’s this? Mister Nature _himself_ is scared of a little poop?” He leans forward to flick Gon on the forehead even as Gon continues to stretch him. “You know what else poops? Fish poop and birds poop and animals poop and all that wonderful, _wonderful_ dirt with all its microbial cultures and fungi that you and Kite love to go _on and on_ about has lots and _lots_ of—a- _ah,_ Gon, _yes!”_

Gon’s face opens into a grin. “That good?” he says as he presses into Killua’s prostate again.

 _“Yes… really_ good—right there, Gon, hurry _up_ …”

Killua relaxes, sinking back onto Gon’s fingers as Gon opens him, massaging his prostate and taking his cock in his other hand, running his thumb over the slit, and Killua can do nothing but gasp, heat filling his hips as he rocks back onto Gon’s fingers—

“You’re so _warm,”_ Gon breathes, his voice soft with wonder. “So tight…”

A third finger, slipping inside. _“_ Oh _, Gon_ …”

“I’m ready,” Killua says, the words coming out much more of a moan than he intends. “Come on, in me now… wait. _Shit._ We need lube.”

Gon reaches for their discarded lube, but Killua beats him to it. He inches back to bring Gon’s cock out from under him, squeezes lube into the palm of his hand, then slathers it onto Gon. He moans at the touch, hips thrusting into empty air.

Their eyes meet, blue against gold, and Killua hears the blood roaring in his ears.

“Ready?”

“Give me a minute,” Killua says, his breath ragged with arousal. “I want to make this last.” Quietly, he commits Gon to memory—his hazel eyes clouded with lust, the parting of his lips, the tiny scratches around his nipples. His fingers, thick and calloused as they brush Killua’s cock, his stomach, his hips—

Gon’s strong arms and brilliant smile and the way he’d welcomed Killua right from the start, seeing past his blood-soaked childhood; the way he’d taken his hands and pulled him into the light.

_I love you, Gon. So, so much._

Killua closes his eyes, reaches for Gon’s damp fingers—and slowly sits himself on Gon’s cock.

It hurts, even with their prep—Gon isn’t especially long but he is _thick_ —but it’s not the pain that reminds Killua of the day they’d been twelve and caught in a dodgeball game, before the world had turned on its head.

It’s how their bodies line up perfectly, Killua ready and waiting to receive Gon; it’s how their _Nen_ flows together, how they trust each other beyond words.

It’s how the pain tells him they are one.

 _It has to be Killua,_ he’d said, so long ago.

“Killua, does it hurt? Are you alright?”

“It hurts. But I’m alright.”

Gon’s voice breaks—whether from pain or pleasure, Killua can’t tell. “I’m sorry—I went too fast _…”_

“Gon. I’ll be _okay_. Just… don’t move for a bit…”

Gon nods—and Killua feels him press his pelvis into the bed, hips trembling from the sheer effort of _don’t move._ Killua reaches out, runs one hand down Gon’s stomach and under his own thigh, pressing Gon’s hips into the mattress so he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. “There,” Killua purrs. “ _My_ pace now.”

He leans into Gon’s cock, just a little, and hears Gon moan—then slides himself up, far enough that Gon is nearly out of him. Gon whimpers, hips twitching under Killua’s hand. Killua pushes him down, stronger this time, and gently, slowly, sits back down.

His eyes flutter open to see Gon below him, kiss-swollen lips slick with saliva and parted as he gasps, chest heaving, brow bent beneath a pleasure almost too great to bear. _“Oh—_ Killua, don’t tease me… feels so _good...”_

“I…” Killua’s words come out a gasp. He lets his eyes wander down his lover’s body, taking in the taut muscles of his chest, the half-light on his pebbled nipples, the way the dark curls below his navel grow thicker and coarser before disappearing beneath Killua’s testicles.

They’ve always been connected. But now, it’s real.

 _“Killua,”_ Gon breathes, pupils blown, eyes glazed with desire, “you’re so—" Killua moves his hips, letting his muscles relax around Gon—"  _oh..._ warm—like a st— _aah_ …”

“Like a what?” Killua teases, pulling him in deeper—and Gon’s cock brushes against his prostate and _oh—_

 _“Yes,”_ he hears himself gasp, blossoms of bright pleasure racing through his veins. His cock throbs, swollen so much it begins to ache. “Gon… _touch_ me…”

“Killua,” Gon whispers below him, a soft, bright smile spreading across his face as he looks up at Killua. “I can feel your heartbeat…”

“You’re not gonna feel it much longer if you don’t start touching me _soon._ ”

 “Mmm _hm.”_ Gon nods, squeezing a little more lube into his hand and reaching for Killua’s cock—and Killua gasps, his whole body shuddering as he leans into those warm hands. “Oh, _Gon_ … I love you so _much_ — _”_

“Can I… should I move now?”

 _“Yes,”_ Killua almost sobs. “Move in me… I want to feel you…”

Gon bucks his hips up, gentle and _maddeningly_ slow, tentative at first, testing the angle—

And the head of his cock hits Killua’s prostate and the pain melts into an indescribable, magnetic _need._ Killua moans, cries out, the bedsheets tearing in his fist as he hears his own voice saying _yes, right there, harder—_

Gon complies, thrusting harder, _deeper,_ moaning for Killua all the while, his hand firm and hot around Killua’s cock as he rubs his fingertip across the slit. It’s better than _anything_ he’s ever felt—better than Gon’s fingers, better than anyone else he’s been with, better than he could dream.

He throws his head back, lets the raw bliss surging through his veins take him away.

They’re as close as they can get, nothing between them now except love, and it’s somehow not enough—he needs _more_ —

The sky lightens. Their fingers entwine.

“Killua,” Gon pants, the sheen of sweat on his skin glimmering in the pale light of dawn, “I’m c-close… do you want me to come ins—“

“Don’t you _dare_ stop, Gon Freecs,” Killua says through clenched teeth, leaning down to cup Gon’s jawline. The slight change in angle takes some of the pressure off his prostate, but it’s worth it to look at Gon. “Or else—I’ll kick your ass into next week…”

“I’d rather you… dick my ass…”

Killua laughs a little as he sits back up—and Gon gasps, his hips bucking up until they’re pressed flush against Killua’s groin. _“Oh, Killua—_ so _good_ … when you laugh…”

Killua opens his mouth to tease him—but then Gon’s fingers tighten around his cock as Gon thrusts, deep and slow, against his prostate, and Killua is beyond words.

“Killua… I’m gonna—I can’t—“

“I’m close too—together, Gon, we’ll be _together_ —“

“ _Mm_.” Gon bites his lip, his hips stalling for a second _._ “So glad it’s you…” he whispers, his free hand gripping Killua's hip like a lifeline. “ _So_ glad.”

 _It has to be Killua,_ he’d said, years ago.

“...Has to be— _ah—_ you, too,” Killua moans, his hands caressing Gon’s chest, the words coming out in a rush as if they’ll disappear. “ _Always_ had to be—oh, _Gon—yes—“_

The beautiful heat coiling in his pelvis becomes unbearable—and he lets the world fall away until there’s nothing left but Gon’s cock and hands and voice and eyes and _Gon—_

_“Gon!”_

And he’s coming, _melting_ into the hand of this beautiful man who’d taught him how to feel, who’s always been his light.

_Thank you._

A hot rush of fluid inside of him—and Gon is crying _Killua,_ his back arching, hands desperately clutching at Killua as he comes.

Killua’s cock spasms one final time—and then his legs give, and he slumps forward, spent, into Gon’s waiting arms. They kiss, smiling against each other’s lips as their mouths crash together. He feels Gon’s cock pulse just a bit longer—and then Gon softens inside of him, his body limp against Killua’s.

They catch their breath.

Killua lies on top of Gon, their stomachs and chests pressed together, Gon’s face tucked in the crook of his neck as they hold each other in the quiet dawn. He’s gross and sore and sleepy and there’s no place he’d rather be.

Their hearts don’t beat perfectly in time—but then Gon relaxes, and they do.

“Killua…?”

“Mmmnrph.”

“D’you mind if I pull out? It sorta hurts, you bending my dick back like that…”

“Oh, right, sorry.” Killua sticks his hips in the air so Gon’s cock can slip out of him, before lying back down on Gon’s chest. He feels a drop of cum trickle out of his asshole with the motion, and winces a little. “Gon…?”

“Mmm?”

“We… probably should go get cleaned up.”

“Why?” Gon says, a soft, lazy smile on his face as he rolls Killua off of him. They lay sideways on the bed facing each other, the half-destroyed sheets tangled around them. “S’just us. And I want to feel you on me for as long as I can.”

Killua reaches out, takes Gon’s hands and knits their fingers together. “Trust you to make lying in a puddle of stale sweat and cum all morning sound romantic,” he says with a smile far too soft to be called a smirk.

“Aren’t you glad you have me.”

Killua smiles, bright and full, his eyes wet. “Always. _Forever,_ Gon—“ They embrace, pulling each other together on the bed.  “You don’t know _how_ glad I am—“

“I didn’t know at first.” There’s a hint of sadness in Gon’s voice as he snuggles against Killua—but when their eyes meet again, Gon’s are clear. “But now…”

A fierce swell of joy filling his heart, Killua cradles Gon to his chest, even tighter than before. They hold each other, breathing each other in, bodies damp with sweat and semen and tears.

“I really meant it, y’know?” Gon says softly. “You’re like a star… Killua, are you crying? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” Killua sniffs, then grins and bops him lightly on the nose. “I’ve only just realized a tragedy—“

“Killua, are you okay?!”

“That my best friend and the love of my life is a _terrible_ sap.”

“Oh.” Gon deflates, his breathing returning to normal, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You’re _meeean_ , Killua.”

“Yeah. I am.” He smirks wickedly. “Good thing you love me.”

They laugh together, feeling each other’s bodies shake—and then Gon pulls him close once more, his fingers combing through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “You really are my star,” Gon murmurs, his eyes as well shimmering with tears. “You’re cool and beautiful… and when I was in the darkest part of my life, you were there to guide me.”

Killua feels something melt inside his heart as he kisses Gon lightly on the forehead, savoring the taste of his skin. “Yeah, well, you’re my sun.”

“I’m your what?!”

 _“Sun._ As in the big glowy orb in the sky.” He leans in and presses a kiss to the fold of Gon’s eyelid. “You’re fierce and shining and radiant and warm—“

”And I make you _aaaallll_ flushed and red…”

Killua can’t help but laugh. “That too. But—“ His voice wavers, just a little. “You lit up my world, you gave me warmth. Life.” A fresh round of tears threatens to spill down his cheeks. “It’s because of you that I’m alive…”

“And _I’m_ alive because of you,” Gon says, pressing his cheek close to Killua’s as he laces their fingers together. “When I was… with Pitou—“

“ _Gon…”_

He continues on, heedless, his eyes shining with tears. “I saw you. And if I’d stopped, just a little longer, I’d’ve realized what I was about to lose…”

_I saved him._

_No, we saved each other._

He’s always known, but hearing the words makes it real.

Too overcome to speak, Killua simply holds Gon close, and prays that his body has said all the words he can’t.

And then Gon, in all his infinite wisdom, decides to say, “And if I’d managed to kill myself back then, I never would have been able to do with you what we just did! So, thanks for that, Killua…”

“I’m glad my asshole provides such a compelling reason to live for you.”

And they burst into giggles, snuggling up together under their comforter, hopelessly entangled together.

The morning sun paints the snowbound Yorknew skyline pink and red and gold.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: MAJOR THANKS to the wonderful fireolin for the beta!! Go checks out her pics, she's amazing and precious *-*
> 
> So this is for the beautiful glittercracker as a thank-you for betaing my Big Bang fic, The Beautiful Uncut Hair of Graves! Go check out her fics, she’s AMAZING and definitely deserves a present.
> 
> As to BUHOG, (that’s what I’m calling it now), it’s not abandoned! I have it all complete, it just needs some... polishing, and I’ve been working on this. So update tomorrow as usual.


End file.
